


Love Is The Root Of All Evil

by SoundandColor



Category: Scandal (TV)
Genre: Emotional Manipulation, Emotional Roller Coaster, F/F, F/M, Love Triangles, Love/Hate, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-21
Updated: 2013-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-05 07:57:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1091491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoundandColor/pseuds/SoundandColor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She wonders what she could say to make them understand: <i>I’m your wife. I trusted you. You’re breaking my heart. I love you</i>.  She thinks maybe she could say: <i>I had you first</i>. She knows it wouldn’t make a difference.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Is The Root Of All Evil

**Author's Note:**

  * For [screamlet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/screamlet/gifts).



Mellie’s 27 when she meets a woman in a bar.

There’s the usual small talk ( _What are you having? How about another?_ ) before she leads her upstairs and pulls down the zip of her dress.

Mellie doesn’t know this woman’s name, but over the course of a few hours, she learns the smell of her skin and the nip of her teeth and the salt of her collarbone and the feel of a slim hand between her thighs. She is about to tie herself to man she doesn’t love, a man who doesn’t love her, all in a bid to become American royalty. Mellie throws her head back on a gasp and smiles.

Mellie learns that woman’s name 6 years later ( _“This is Olivia”_ ). It fits her. She only stumbles once at Mellie’s unexpected presence. After that, she’s completely calm and collected. Totally professional. Within a month, she’s rehabbed their public image. Within two, they’ve gone up ten points in the polls and are becoming a real threat. She’s so wrapped up in the campaign, in becoming the First Lady of the United States, that she almost misses the lingering looks. The unnecessary touches, the way he has to stop himself from smiling when Olivia walks into a room.

She waits until they’re alone in a Nordstrom’s dressing room before bringing it up. “You and my husband—“

Olivia practically jumps at the insinuation,“Yes?“

“I know.”

Olivia narrows her eyes slightly, “You know?”

Mellie lets that sink in before moving on to more important things. “We have an arrangement; more importantly, have you seen the numbers? We’re getting too close to slip up. He likes you. We can use that.” Olivia’s face goes flat with shock as she sits back in her seat, studying Mellie, trying to figure her out. She crosses her legs, and Mellie’s eyes fall to the outline of her thighs in her dress.  She remembers the way this woman moved against her all those years ago, the taste of her skin, she imagines the way Fitz will touch her later and feels herself flush.

When she looks back up, Olivia is watching. Thinking. Considering.

“What’s your idea?”

-

They put their heads together. They make plans.

-

She knows for sure that Fitz has stood her up when 9:45 rolls around and he still hasn’t pulled into Cyrus’ wide driveway. The man himself disappeared into his office twenty minutes ago, so when James hands her a glass of red wine with an apologetic look, Mellie sips it thankfully.  She knows James fairly well, he’s a fixture at private parties and has come to a few of their fundraisers over the years, but they don’t interact much.

It’s quiet and awkward, and just when Mellie is making her excuses and grabbing her purse, James stops her. “Stay! The food’s almost ready and there’s entirely too much wine for me alone. Please don’t go! Just because they don’t have time for us doesn’t mean we can’t have any fun.”

He means it lightly, but Mellie feels stung.

James grabs her hand and squeezes, maybe sensing his misstep. “Come on. It’ll be fun.”

She sighs and sits back down, motions for him to top off her glass, and Cyrus can be a pain in the ass, but a part of her admires him. His power, the strings he pulls, the lengths he’s willing to go to to get what he wants, his ability to pick a great vintage. She thinks she’ll probably have to destroy him one day. He’s too loyal to Fitz to jump ship, and if she really wants that political career, it’ll have to be done.  She won’t let herself worry about that now, though. This just might be turning into a nice evening, and that’s all in the future. “When will the food be ready?”

James is funny. She can’t believe she never noticed it before, but he’s quick and dry, and before she knows it, three hours, more than half of a baked chicken and two bottles of that spectacular wine have passed from this world. She’s resting her head on her hand, elbow propped on their dining room table, and her mother would faint to see Mellie displaying such bad manners, when he starts to speak.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Uh oh,” she mutters into the polished wood before looking  up. He’s watching her, tense, when she decides to let him off the hook. “Go on then.”

“Why did you marry him?”

Mellie sits back and studies the man next to her. They’re a lot alike, her and James, both spouses of powerful men, both begging for scraps. She’s not sure exactly what he knows about Fitz, about their arrangement, about Olivia, but he obviously knows something. “It seemed like a good idea at the time,” she says with a laugh before sobering at the look on his face. “I think you have a pretty good idea of why I married him.”

“Then why do you stay?”

“Because I fell in love.”

The worst thing about all of this is that she’s telling the truth.

-

Mellie’s never wanted children, but there are certain prerequisites for the perfect American family: A daddy, a mommy and at least two little kidlets make up the standard form. She’d put her foot down when it came to the dog, though.

Her belly is getting big now, and she touches it gently before walking into Fitz’s parlor to find Olivia standing at the window. She’s surprised. They haven’t seen one another in months except for formal functions or passive aggressive run-ins, and since Doyle, there’s still a rift with Fitz. She watches Olivia’s back for a moment, then moves to the opposite couch and sits, watches the other woman become aware of her presence and pretend otherwise.

Mellie has noticed that Olivia never looks at her now that she’s pregnant.

Her eyes move over every other face in the room, she watches some point just over Mellie’s left shoulder, she stares down at her phone with the type of focus that can only be achieved by someone trying very hard to ignore something else, but she never looks at her. Mellie finally has what she needs to succeed, Fitz’s ear and trust, it should be enough. It isn’t.

The longer Olivia ignores her, the angrier Mellie gets. She knows that, secretly, Olivia considers herself the hero of their sordid little tale (she guesses that would make Fitz the damsel and herself the Evil Queen. Heh.) but she’s no better than they are. She might not have shot down a plane or faked a miscarriage, but she’s no saint. Mellie touches her stomach again, decides to go for the jugular. “Does it make you angry,” she finally asks, breaking the silence, “the thought of him being with me.”

“Maybe I don’t like the thought of you being with him.”

“Liar,” she shoots back too quickly and with more venom than can be brushed aside. She can feel heat in her face, she can’t catch her breath.  Mellie has never been jealous of them. Not really. Not in the way that they always think she is anyway, because it was never about the sex. It was being left behind that bothered her, being stuck in the house when they were at the height of their secret love no one else could ever possibly comprehend that turned her bitter.

Olivia finally turns, meets her eyes and it’s one of the few instances where Mellie isn’t quite sure what’s going through her head.  Olivia is usually distractingly easy to read. The doe eyes, the trembling lip. Mellie thought it was a put-on in the beginning, but she’s come to learn it’s all real. They stare at one another for a moment when she says lowly, “Mellie,” and she’s up and across the room without conscious thought. She hates it. The power they have over her. The way this woman makes her feel. The way Fitz makes her weak. The way they’ll never love her more than they love each other. She shouldn’t allow this. She should cut off all contact, divorce Fitz, and finally start her own life. She knows. She knows.

Even still, when Olivia cups her face, Mellie can’t help but lean into it.

-

When she visits Teddy’s nursery, Mellie notices they’ve painted it a different color. A deep navy with purple undertones she’s not sure she likes. Her mouth turns down as she looks around the room and notices the changes that have been made: a rocking chair that’s not too far from the window, different bed sheets, new toys. She’s dragging the rocking chair back to its prior position when their nanny walks into the room, Teddy bobbing on her hip, and stops dead at her presence.  “Mrs. Grant!”

Mellie stands up straight with a tight smile. “Who authorized this?” She asks, motioning to the room.

The woman turns beat red. “I noticed how cute he looked in a jumper this color. I sent the formal request in through the proper channels…” she trails off when she realizes Mellie isn’t really paying attention anymore. She looks around the room again before stepping forward and reaching out to take Teddy into her arms. The woman’s grip tightens—just for a moment, just for a fraction of a second but her fate is sealed as far as Mellie is concerned—before she releases him.

She kisses the top of his sweet smelling head and smiles. “You’re free to go.” Mellie says flatly, not bothering to look up. The nanny moves away, hesitates at the door, and then walks away. She pushes his hair away from his face and rocks him in her arms as she sits. He’s fussy, pulling at her collar and trying to wiggle out of her arms. She holds him tighter, whispers nonsense into his ear lowly, stares down into a face that looks so much like him that she can’t stand it sometimes.

She doesn’t know how much time has passed, but Teddy’s eyes have gone soft and sleep hazy and she allows her thoughts to venture past this room. To upcoming engagements, speeches she has to make, charities that are safe to endorse; She counts back without really meaning to and realizes she hasn’t seen Fitz or Olivia in days. After her and Olivia’s discussion in Fitz’s office, after the interview when he stuck up for her, she’d thought they had finally come to some sort of understanding. Some sort of mutual respect. Mellie guesses she was wrong. It’s not the first time and it won’t be the last.

She wonders what she could say to make them understand: _I’m your wife. I trusted you. You’re breaking my heart. I love you_.  She thinks maybe could say to them: _I had you first_. She knows it wouldn’t make a difference.

She thinks back to that moment with Cyrus.  About the decision she made and who she could’ve been if she’d made a different one. An attorney, a philanthropist, a respected member of the community, somebody’s number one priority. The type of person she deserves to be. Either way, Mellie knows she’s better than this. Better than them. She rocks Teddy for a while longer, watches the shadows stretch across the room as the sun sets and wonders, absently, where they are. If they’re together. If they’re thinking of her.  

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for the beta and characterization tips [galfridian](http://archiveofourown.org/users/galfridian/pseuds/galfridian) and [merryghoul](http://archiveofourown.org/users/vmarigoldabrams/pseuds/merryghoul).


End file.
